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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25717408">Somewhat Subjectively</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Rarepair Hell [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hamilton - Miranda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aaron Burr-centric, Comedy, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Gay, Gift Work, I Blame Tumblr, I Tried, I'm Bad At Tagging, Multi, Not Beta Read, OT3, Polyamorous Character, Polyamorous Pack, Polyamory, Poor Aaron Burr, Pre-Poly, Romantic Comedy, well kinda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:33:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>731</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25717408</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aaron didn’t really like Alexander Hamilton.</p><p> </p><p>Correction: He hated Alexander Hamilton.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aaron Burr/Alexander Hamilton, Aaron Burr/Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Aaron Burr/John Laurens, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Rarepair Hell [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1865362</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Somewhat Subjectively</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/sultrysweets/gifts">sultrysweets</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Me and TarotJunkie/sultrysweets: Let's do the 1 hour challenge we did a while ago! It was really fun and it went really well!</p><p>Also us: Get's repeatedly distracted, doesn't post until about a day later, and goes completely off what we were supposed to do</p><p>Prompt: "Don't flatter yourself"</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Aaron didn’t really like Alexander Hamilton. He was too loud, too brash, too cheeky. He was too smart, too headstrong, too everything. Everything Aaron Burr was not. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Correction: He hated Alexander Hamilton. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe that made him an asshole, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well that surely made him an asshole. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>But again, </span><em><span>he</span></em> <em><span>didn’t</span></em> <em><span>care</span></em><span>. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t care much about anything lately, but that’s a story for another time. Well, there wasn’t much of a story to it, honestly. He simply didn’t feel anything towards anything anymore. Except for Alexander. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Good lord, could that man work his nerves. Like right now. He and his “best bud”, John Laurens (Aaron could tell they were dating, but he didn’t say anything) were giving him some stupid company survey about co-workers. It was a Friday afternoon, and Aaron was on his fourth and final coffee, and was about to pack up for the day, when John and Alex jumped him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you consider yourself good at working with others?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Sure.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have to answer either ‘Yes’ ‘Somewhat’ or ‘No’ ” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine. ‘Somewhat’ “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “You think you’re somewhat good with working with others or somewhat bad at it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m somewhat good at working with others.” Aaron spit out, teeth gritted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Alex grinned as he watched John scribble down his answer in a notebook. Those bastards. They were purposefully messing with him, and Aaron knew it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And for your final question; do you think I’m hot?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aaron choked on his coffee. He felt the tips of his ears turn bright red. What the fuck? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I- I don’t see how this is relevant to your eyes- I mean survey.” He sputtered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I assure you this is completely within company policy, Washington himself reviewed these questions and gave us full permission to question anyone we saw fit.” Aaron wanted to slap those sly grins off of their faces. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Washington. That asshole. He probably knew they were going to mess with him, and completely approved of it. Why was he the one everyone liked to tease? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe it was time to get them back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I suppose you’re objectively quite attractive.” Alex looked like he was about to burst with excitement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what about subjectively?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t flatter yourself.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ll have to be more specific.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you subjectively think I’m hot?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron smirked, and looked at them straight in the eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Somewhat.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*** </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aaron was just asking if John had a pen he could use. For fuck’s sakes, all he wanted was a goddamn pen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you have a pen I can burrow?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John smirked. “Somewhat.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? That doesn’t make any- Oh.” He turned very pink. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s when he realized he should just ask Eliza instead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*** “Hey Burr!!” Aaron turned as Alex called out to him. Oh lord, now what? “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What Alexander?” He really wasn’t in the mood for this. Sally had tried to call him again last night, and memories he didn’t want to resurface came into his mind, yelling at him and calling him things he couldn’t help but believe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn. What crawled up your ass and died this morning?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you want?” Aaron sighed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well I </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> wondering if you’d like me to help with your opening statement on the Reynolds case, since you said you were having trouble with it yesterday. But clearly you’re not in the mood.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aaron looked at him like he’d grown two heads.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to help </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>...?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? Don’t make it such a big deal, Jeash.” Alex cheeses.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Asshole.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then why did he let Alex lead him through the case, piecing together his arguments for him, as Aaron just stared in awe?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Good lord, this wasn’t going as planned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s been exactly a week since the whole survey incident, and Aaron doesn’t know what to think. John had been teasing him more than usual lately, and Alex had been nicer than ever. But it wasn’t the usual kind of teasing-Aaron didn’t take any offense to them anymore- and Alex clearly wasn't just trying to get brownie points.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew something was up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yet, for some reason, he was surprised when he saw a note, addressed to him, (it was clearly from Alex and John) on his desk that simply read.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Date?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Check one of the following:</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em><span>Yes</span></em> <em><span> Somewhat</span></em> <em><span>  No</span></em></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t hesitate to circle “Yes”, a grin plastered on his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t go as planned.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>do you like it?</p><p>no?</p><p>I don't either!</p><p>oml this is so badddddddd</p></blockquote></div></div>
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